She said it again: It's been raining all day.
The bookfaces turned morose
and the people echoed in their readings,
blank mumblings in the darkened shop.
The gramophone man came in at 5 o'clock
but was listening to the cars treading water.
She took out her purpose and climbed the ladder
to reach for copies of a paperback
that needed replenishing. She slid the stack
back into place and stopped to rest.
The gramophone man did not look up and she could not
come up with a specific reason why
he should leave his own empty echoing room.
On a day like this there was no sound
that could be forced open,
though her crowbar heart pivoted
away from its loneliness.